


Blame is in the Eye of the Beholder

by magnass (PotofCoffee)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Apocafic, Apocalypse, BDSM, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotofCoffee/pseuds/magnass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s blaming herself for everything, he can see it in her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame is in the Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> For Amanda, do I need a reason? <3
> 
> The premise: Earth was destroyed, along with the Alpha site. SG-1, who were off on a mission at the time, have settled into the poor farming community in which they were stranded.

Earth is gone.   
Earth is gone, and it is her fault.   
She has blown up a sun and now a planet.   
Samantha Carter: Destroyer of worlds.

He watches her wrestle with the guilt. Sees the pain and the suffering of each man, woman, and child echoed in her gaze.  
Every day the badge she still wears on her arm fades a little more. Every day the lines on her face deepen by a fraction. The badge and the wrinkles are kin - both worn as a mark of remembrance--of shame.  
It gets to the point where he can no longer stand it. Can no longer sit idly by as she shoulders the responsibility of something for which only the Goa’uld are to be blamed.  
She stands like Atlas. Bowed over by the weight of what she has shouldered. Only the world she holds above her is a blackened dilapidated husk. A crushed burned-out shadow of the once-proud globe.   
And he takes it upon himself to cease her punishment; she has done no crime.

He finds her in the tool shed, fixing the makeshift generator.  
He grabs her by the shoulders, she drops the tools in surprise when he kisses her. When he lets her lips go she splutters  
“Jack. What the hell are you doing?” He matches her glare with the most impassive, expression he has ever worn.  
“Excuse me,   
Major  
, is that how you address a superior officer?” She looks at him, confused: It’s been months, almost a full Earth year, since they’ve even mentioned military ranks.  
“Jack, what the fuck are you playing at?” his grip on her tightens and he speaks again.  
“I believe that’s Colonel O’Neill to you, Major.” She looks into his eyes and she understands. This is not Jack. This is not the man who toils day after day in the fields beside her, who built them a house with his bare hands, who makes love to her in the dark hush of night.   
No, this is Colonel Jack O’Neill. The hardened black ops soldier. This is her commanding officer.  
“Sorry Sir. Won’t happen again Sir.” And she can   
feel  
her spine straighten as she speaks, her body instinctively snapping to attention. He nods in approval, one short jab of his head, and then he’s kissing her again. He pushes her back, against the wall, pinning her there, not allowing her to move as he plunders her mouth with his tongue.  
He gets he shirt open as quickly as he can without damaging anything - they don’t exactly have the resources here to replace popped-off buttons or torn up clothes.  
He doesn’t bother pushing the shirt off, nor the bra for that matter. For the latter he merely pushes the cups to the side, baring his nipples to the force of his fingers, lips, and teeth. He undoes her belt, and her pants pool at her feet with barely any encouragement from him. She’s lost too much weight since It happened.  
He spins her around, catching her hands pulling them behind her, and tying her wrists with the piece of rope he had in his pocket.  
She bites her lip to stifle a gasp at the sensation of the cold rough stone being pressed against her flushed body.  
He moves his hands between her and the wall, one moving up to tease at her nipples, the other moving down to thread through the short curls covering her cunt.  
He draws his finger over her clit, smirking at the resultant jump in her body.  
“Who’s in command, Carter?”  
“You,” her reply is breathy, and he tugs at one of her nipples harshly as punishment. “You are, Sir” she amends herself immediately and he nods.  
“That’s right Carter. And who’s orders do you follow?” With this questions he thrusts two fingers inside of her sharply.  
“Yours. Sir!” She manages to choke out.  
“And you’re a good little soldier, right Carter?”  
“I... I try to be, Sir”  
“As your superior officer, you follow   
my  
orders. I’m responsible for what you do. Do you blame me Carter?” He suddenly removes both his hands from her body. She’s pinned by the force of his chest against her back, her nipples are pressed into the roughened stone and her cheek scrapes against it as she speaks.  
“No.” she breathes “No sir I don’t”  
“Then,   
Carter  
” he grinds his hips into her, rubbing his stiff cock against her ass, “How can you blame yourself?” She was so wet by this point she could feel her juices dripping onto her thighs.  
“Please Sir” she begged shamelessly.  
“Please what? Let you come?: He ghosted his fingers over her clit, teasing mercilessly. “See, you can’t even have an orgasm without my permission. How could you destroy a world?”  
She moans, a desperate yearning sound, but he ignores the inherent plea. “Say the words Carter. I want you to admit it.”

She rides out her orgasm on his fingers and the only thing she can hear is her own breathy sob “ _Not. My. Fault._ ”


End file.
